


Lullaby

by NHarmonic



Series: Whitebeard Pirates [8]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Almost death, Baby Chick Marco, Daddy Eddie, Gen, Phoenix Song, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHarmonic/pseuds/NHarmonic
Summary: Summary: Whitebeard was ill, he was dying, before Thatch and Teach, before Ace, before any of them were a part of his family. Back in time when it was just Marco and himself. Whitebeard was a goner and he knew it; he just wanted to hear his son sing, one last time. Unknown to Marco and Whitebeard though, the phoenix’s song was no mere lullaby.Revised Summary: None of Whitebeard’s children knew that once, a long time ago, they were so close to losing the man they called father before they even met him. Save one.





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Just something I made a thousand years ago out of the cuteness of my heart.

The Whitebeard family, or really Marco and Whitebeard, were docked on a peaceful island, currently living in the hospital. Whitebeard had fallen ill as they were journeying towards adventures yet discovered and family still unfound. At Marco’s begging, they had stopped at an island lost in time and it was there that Whitebeard had taken a turn for the worst. The doctor on their current island was saying that he had been bitten by a bug that was long extinct and that he would die.

The doctors had left them alone in a room where they could be together while Whitebeard died; Whitebeard had already gotten promised that Marco would be taken care of when he was gone. The room was silent, except for Whitebeard’s fast breathing, and Marco’s poorly hidden whimpers. Whitebeard, despite feeling shitty, looked to his first, and now only, son.

“Marco,” he panted and held his hand out. “Come here, my son.”

Without hesitating, Marco sniffled and ran to his father, falling into the giant’s hand. Whitebeard lifted the boy and placed him on his feverish chest; Marco couldn’t look away from the black, swollen sting that was on the man’s pectoral. Whitebeard gently tilted Marco’s head away and gave him a reassuring smile.

“It's okay Marco,” he said, “You’ll be just fine.”

Marco’s eyes teared up even more and his chin scrunched up as he bit his lip. “Daddy,” he whispered and hugged as much of the man as he could.

“Why are you crying?” Whitebeard asked, petting the young boy. “I’m the one who sick; you’ve no reason to cry?”

“I just got you!” Marco wailed. “I don’t want to lose you! I don't want to be alone again yoi!”

Whitebeard’s face softened. “I’m sorry Marco,” he said sincerely.

Marco sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve though it was useless. “I wanted to be a family,” he whimpered. “And have many, many, many brothers and sisters! I don’t want to lose anyone anymore!”

Whitebeard said nothing and Marco continued to sob; crying for everything he’d lost and everything he was going to loose; making Whitebeard feel guiltier and guiltier. Finally, the boy exhausted himself, panting almost as much as his father as he lied there on the man’s chest, swallowing his saliva and giving stuttering breaths; the entire time Whitebeard had been rubbing his back. Instinctually, because he was so broken down, Marco’s body caught aflame and then there was a phoenix on Whitebeard’s chest.

Whitebeard chuckled. “Marco,” he murmured, petting the chick's head. “Why don’t you sing something? Something to make us happy.”

Whitebeard didn’t let on that he knew his body was quitting on him; that this would be his last night with his son. It was selfish, and he knew it, but Whitebeard wanted to hear his son sing to him one last time. There was something about the boy’s song that always set his heart forward; made him gush with warmth and happiness.

Marco was silent, nuzzling the fingers stroking his head before he complied. Whitebeard sighed in relief, as he listened to the wordless song that played from the phoenix chick’s throat. It was a tune that couldn’t be named, a sound that had no instrument that could ever copy it. The sound was mournful, and yet full of happiness; fast and slow; hot and cold. 

Whitebeard hummed as he listened, thumbing over Marco’s teary eyes. “Thank you, my son,” he murmured, and against his will, he fell asleep.

Marco continued to play his song until his vocal cords gave out and he had to quit. Mentally and physically exhausted, he joined his father in slumber. Unknown to the two, something wonderful was already in the making.

**~The Next Morning~**

Marco’s first touch of reality that morning was a nudge he felt on his arm; he had transformed in his sleep. The nudge was insistent and he heard his name being whispered in the back of his head. Marco whimpered when he heard the voices of the doctors as well and he tried to stay asleep, to stave off the inevitable. The doctors were here to tell him his father was dead and he was an orphan again.

“Marco… My son, wake up.... Marco…”

_ ‘Daddy…?’ _

Slowly, unwilling, Marco peeked open one of his eyes and gasped at he sight before him.

“Daddy!” he squealed. leaning to hug the man’s neck.

“Gurarara! Good morning Marco,” Whitebeard said softly, hugging his son.

Marco pulled away. “You’re better yoi!” he stated, touching the man’s cheeks.

It was true; Whitebeard was no longer ill. The old man’s cheeks were no longer red and feverish; his breathing was calm and he was no longer sweating so profusely. The most apparent change was the bug bite that had made the old man ill in the first place. It was no longer black; it was red and still swollen, but it was easy to see that it was healing and no longer causing pain.

“Gurarara! So it would seem,” Whitebeard agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair.

The head doctor walked forward, shaking his head. “Your a miracle of science,” he said, “I couldn’t even begin to explain how this happened.”

Marco didn’t care as he shed tears of joy, nuzzling his father’s chest while whimpering in joy. Whitebeard chuckled in reply, holding the boy when he noticed one of Marco’s tears hit his wound; he paused in surprise when he saw the wound turn a lighter color. Whitebeard gave a secret smile and he looked to the doctors, who didn’t see the phenomenon.

“I guess I just have a blue angel watching over me,” Whitebeard said easily.


End file.
